Dodge! Jump! Lunge!

Staggering back, you barely avoided two swift strikes from these small but deadly battle flails.

These small, spiked iron spheres, attached to rotating chains, flashed barely a finger's length from your face...

The black-purple eyes of this female-tigerman flashed furiously, and a roar of hatred erupted from her bared maw...

Her graceful, white-furred body arched in another attempt to swing her weapon...

However, you didn't give your female opponent even a split second for another strike: you leaped high and delivered a powerful roundhouse strike with your long, sharp-tipped polearm.

The wide, sharp blade of a naginata could easily inflict a horrific, lethal wound on almost any creature. And you were counting on just such a result, fully expecting to see the sharp, cold steel slice through the flesh of this female-tigerman from hip to shoulder.

Alas, your enemy was very agile...

She managed to swing her left hand and shift the trajectory of your weapon's strike, thanks to the chain of one of her battle flails tightly wrapped around the shaft of your naginata.

The blade of your weapon struck the hilt of that battle flail powerfully.

The **** of your blow was so great that the metal hilt of that battle flail deformed. This broken weapon was thrown several meters away toward the walls of the Arena.

Due to the momentum of your strike, your female opponent was thrown back and lost her balance, nearly falling backwards onto the sand of the Great Arena, which was already soaked with the blood of previous participants in brutal duels.

However, she managed to somersault backwards several times and regain her feet. But now the weapon is only in her right hand.

You quickly go on the attack!

Run! Leap! A sweeping blow from top to bottom!

You aimed straight at your opponent's chest – but, to your dismay, the steel tip of the naginata only sank into the blood-soaked, sun-warmed sand...

And before you could turn for another attack, your agile female opponent delivers a swift blow to your left side!

Alas, you don't have time to dodge...

Sharp iron spikes pierce your flesh...

The crushing damage of the battle flail is excruciatingly felt on your bones and internal organs...

You growl in pain and quickly swing your long polearm in a circle, preventing your enemy from getting too close again. Drops of scarlet blood trickle down your fur...

The screams of the vile crowds of humans sitting in the high stands of this vast stone Arena are so deafeningly loud and irritating that the unrealistic yet simultaneously desirable thought of tearing out the throat of each of these stinking humans "blooms" in your head.

The white-furred female-tigerman recoils from you and continues to circle around you, trying to choose the right moment for another attack.

You see excitement and anticipation of victory in her black-purple eyes...

For a split second, you notice beads of saliva dripping from her sharp fangs, as if hinting that your enemy's hunting instincts are anticipating your weakening and ****.

The smell...

The smell of blood...

The smell of your own blood...

Tigermans have a keen sense of smell (much better than mere humans) – and now you yourself feel all your senses signaling your enemy of imminent victory and the predator's triumph.

"Arrrrgghhhh... I will be the only predator here! I will rip her flesh apart!" – thoughts filled with furious malice flare up in your mind.

You wait for your enemy's next attack...

Female-tigerman gracefully dodges your lunges and leaps toward you...

A spiked battle flail flies straight for your head...

And then you deliver a surprise feint: let the enemy think you're aiming for his legs - when the real goal is to plunge the blade of the naginata straight into his throat...